What the bloody hell happened to you?
by bookwormgirlLH
Summary: Eddie's hurt, but how did it happen? Oneshot, complete. No slash.


"Where the bloody hell have you been?" was the first thing that Eddie Hitler heard as he stumbled across the threshold and into the flat. Closing the door, Eddie leaned against it, breathing heavily, waiting for it.

"Edward Hitler!" Shouted Richie Richard, his flat mate, as he stormed through the doorway from the dining room into the hallway, still wearing his feminine apron, but too angry to remember to remove it, "I had your dinner ready at nine o'clock - it's two in the morning now. Where have you - bloody hell, Eddie!" He cried as he turned the corner and caught sight of his flat mate, "Oh, Eddie, what happened?" He asked, voice softening.

Eddie looked awful: his nose was bleeding, his lip had split, his whole face was covered in gashes, he had a black eye behind his cracked National Health glasses, he was clutching his right arm to his chest, and all of his weight was on his left leg, making him look lopsided.

"I'm fine, Richie," He said, slurring slightly, spraying bloody saliva as he attempted to stagger past his concerned flat mate.

"You're not, Eddie, you need first aid." Richie replied firmly, gripping Eddie's uninjured arm and leading him into the drawing-room, where Eddie immediately collapsed onto the sofa, gasping for breath.

There was silence for a few seconds. "Well?" Richie said, staring down at Eddie inquisitively, eyebrows raised.

"Well what?"

"What do you mean 'well what?'?" Richie exploded, "You've walked in five hours late looking like death warmed up, and you're acting like nothing's happened!" By now, he had reached the kitchen, but after an unsuccessful search for the first aid kit - Richie remembered that he had thrown it at Eddie during a fight, and it had flown straight out of the open window, onto a police officer below - he hurried back over to where Eddie was slumped, semi-conscious, on the sofa, swearing under his breath.

"Where does it hurt, Eddie?" He asked, watching Eddie wince in pain.

"No where, leave me alone." Eddie snapped irritably, pulling away from Richie.

Richie looked put out, "I'm only concerned," He muttered huffily.

"Look, Richie, I know you mean well, but can you STOP TALKING!" Eddie screamed.

"Alright then." Richie stormed off to sit at the table, eyebrows disappearing behind his long hair which was partially covering his forehead. He found himself too curious to keep silent for long, though. "So what did happen, then?"

"SHUT UP, Richie!" Eddie yelled, "I've got a headache."

"I'm not bloody surprised with all the shouting you're doing!" Richie yelled back.

Eddie struggled to his feet, and attempted to stagger towards Richie, fists clenched, but lurched sideways and ended up on the floor.

"For God's sake, Eddie." Richie tutted. He went over to where Eddie was sprawled on the carpet, "Come on, let me help you up." He said softly, as though Eddie was a child, but he found that the bald man was unconscious. Taking this as a chance to see how badly Eddie was hurt, Richie ran his hand along Eddie's bad arm, and found it was twisted out of shape, and, remembering how something similar had happened to his leg, realised that it was broken.

Sighing, Richie went and rang 999, knowing Eddie was going to kill him when he found out he was in hospital, but realising that Eddie needed medical help that he couldn't give.

* * *

"Oh dear, what have you done to yourself, Mr..." The nurse began, looking down at Eddie, who was flat on his back on a bed in A and E. He had woken up in the ambulance, and Richie had only avoided being beaten up by threatening to shock Eddie with the defibrillator, which Eddie knew was a real threat, as Richie had attacked him with one before.

"Hitler, Eddie Hitler." Eddie muttered, scowling, but Richie smiled at the nurse; his scary grin, Eddie noted, was the only face Richie ever used when on the pull, which may have been why he was so unsuccessful with the opposite sex.

"Hello, and may I tell you, what a smashing blouse you have on?" He began, making Eddie roll his eyes.

"No." The nurse said dismissively, moving away from Richie, whose fingers were twitching disturbingly. "Anyway, by the looks of things, Mr Hitler," She continued, "You have a simple fracture of the ulna and or the radius in your forearm, nothing too serious. We'll get you down to the X-ray department as soon as we can, and you might need you lip stitched up, but you should be back home before it gets light." She smiled at Eddie before leaving the cubical, twitching her hips to avoid Richie's hand slapping her bottom.

As soon as they were alone, Eddie snapped, "Why did you take me here, you know I hate hospitals."

"I was only trying to help." Richie replied defensively. desperate to change the subject, he said, "What did I do wrong?"

"What, with the bird?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah."

"Well, lets just say, Richie, your chat up line is more than a tad predictable." He replied, keeping his face deadpan, even though he wanted to laugh at Richie's depressed expression.

Richie huffed, crossed his arms, and stared daggers at Eddie, who broke the eye contact by smashing his bedpan over Richie's head.

* * *

It was seven in the morning when they finally got home, and the sun was only just beginning to rise. Richie opened the dining room door and entered the room, followed by Eddie. His right arm was in a cast and slung across his chest, his split lip had been sewn up and he was hobbling along with a crutch, as they had found his ankle to be sprained, but not broken.

Richie boiled the kettle, before taking two cups over to the sofa, and sitting down beside Eddie, handing him one of the cups. They drank in silence, before Eddie spoke, voice barely audible,

"Thanks for caring about me, Rich. If it had been up to me, I wouldn't have set foot in that hospital, and my arm would probably heal all contorted. It might not matter to some people, but it's my right arm, and as I'm right-handed, if it didn't work, I'd have a hard time 'studying'." He grinned, making Richie blush as he remembered a previous argument. Richie had been stunned by Eddie's comment, but by the end of his little speech, Richie realised that things were back to normal.

"Are you accusing my of masturbating?" Richie said indignantly.

"No, I never mentioned that word, but it happens that you're not the only one who likes to study the art book." Eddie nodded towards the bookshelf.

"Speaking of which." Richie picked up the book, grinning perversely, and headed to the door, flexing his fingers.

"Oh, Richie," Eddie called, "I didn't get beaten up or anything like that, I just fell down the stairs as I tried to get up them earlier, I promise."

Richie smiled at him, "That's all I wanted to know, see you later, Eddie." Richie waved at his flat mate, before leaving the room.

Eddie chuckled at Richie, knowing exactly what his flat mate was up to, before yawning and falling asleep on the sofa, glad that everything was back to normal.


End file.
